


Both Alike in Dignity

by QueenGwyn



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28539450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenGwyn/pseuds/QueenGwyn
Summary: Some AU shorts imagining some new inhabitants on Deep Space Nine
Comments: 15
Kudos: 16





	1. A New Shop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [canyoupleasejust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canyoupleasejust/gifts).



Quark glared across the promenade, leaning over his bar to get a better look.

"Unbelievable." He growled. "It should be illegal."

Morn grunted, taking a sip of his drink. Quark shot him a glare as he dropped back on his heels.

"Oh, now you decide to go silent." He tapped the bar in front of his best customer. A peal of laughter brought his attention back to the other side of the promenade, refocusing on his enemy. Quark snapped his cleaning rag over the counter and inched towards the door. Smiling and offering refills and greetings, he finally paused next to the door. More laughter could be heard from the new establishment.

"I'll bet he's not even that funny." Quark muttered to himself.

Except that he was. From the moment an interdimensional displacement had dropped that bloviating, ostentatiously tailored, client stealing menace into the Alpha Quadrant, he'd been nothing but charming. Quark had even been sympathetic to him. After all, what was the Ferengi, but a gracious host, a refuge for travelers and a friend to all who passed through his bar?

And how had that Delta Quadrant ingrate repaid him?

By opening Neelix's Lounge right across from Quark's.

AND he had the AUDACITY to claim that Quark had inspired him to do it. Not that Quark wasn't an inspiring presence. He was, after all a community leader, but the gall of that pompous, longwinded-

A smell came from the other side of the promenade. Quark stopped and sniffed the air, licking his lips. It was a spiced, wonderful smell that made his mouth water. It reminded him of a soup Moogie sometimes made him when he came in from school on the days when Ferenginar's usual downpour turned slightly glacial. It would warm him from the tips of his toes to the tops of his lobes. The key to the soup was to smoke the tube grubs before incorporating them into the broth. Quark licked his lips, grinning as Garak walked in.

"Good afternoon, Quark." He paused, taking in the joyous look on the bar owner's face before glancing over at Neelix's Lounge. "Dare I ask why you look like the Nagus extended you a line of credit?"

"The Nagus is my brother, if anything I extend him the credit." Quark waved away the arched eyebrow of disbelief that Garak gave him. "Do you smell that?"

Garak tilted his head, taking a deep sniff. "Planning on betraying your own establishment?" He asked.

Quark gripped the front of Garak's chemise, pulling him forward until he bumped into the bar. The tailor looked down in horror at the creases he was making. "Do you know what this means?" He dropped him, coming around the bar, his lobes tingling with excitement. Garak sniffed as he smoothed out his shirt.

"That I wasted the last of a perfectly good bolt of Risian Silk?"

"It means." Quark clapped as he stopped at the entrance of his bar. Sure enough, a slight haze of smoke was emanating from Neelix's Lounge. "That I've got him." Quark inhaled deeply. It was a good day for business. Striding across the promenade, he entered into hostile territory. Smiling broadly, he singled out the quivering chef's hat of his nemesis. Neelix had the audacity to smile at him. Poor fool. 

"Quark!" He waved him over. "You are just in time to test my newest culinary endeavor." He clapped Quark on the shoulder, tugging him towards the pots he had steaming in the center of his adoring customers. Quark kept his smile in place. He could be gracious. This was, after all, his moment of triumph. "Everyone," Neelix addressed the crowd. "This is my dearest friend on the station. The one who took me in." He squeezed Quark's shoulder. "I was once, adrift. My shuttle sucked through a singularity that cut me off from everything and everyone I loved. Then, I found my way to this glorious station." He pressed his free hand to his chest. "I'd never seen a more beautiful sight than it's...pointy things." 

"Spires." Quark corrected.

"Cardakians. Marvelous architects." 

"Cardassians." Quark muttered.

"Though their politics," Neelix continued, "are a bit..." 

"Murderous?" Quark supplied. 

"I was trying to put it diplomatically." Neelix smiled broadly. "But this banquet is in your honor, Quark. My little way of thanking you for your generosity of spirit." He grabbed a ladle and spooned a heavy dose into a bowl. He held it in front of Quark. "You don't need a spoon." Quark accepted it, raising it to his lips. The broth was hot, but didn't burn. The second it hit his tongue, he felt his eyes widen. He'd thought it smelled like his Moogie's soup. He now knew he was wrong. It was his Moogie's soup. He could see her now, smiling as he entered the house and took his boots off and shook out his umbrella. She'd put the soup on the table and ask him about how well he'd audited his teacher's accounts. He swallowed, lowering the bowl and hastily wiping a tear. Clearing his throat, he turned to Neelix. The damned Delta Quadrant expatriot looked...nervous? Could it be that he actually sought Quark's approval? 

"I hope you'll forgive my overstepping." Neelix lowered his voice so only they could hear. "But I asked your brother for pointers and he gave me this recipe." 

Quark blinked. He'd been talking to Rom about how much he'd missed this soup about a month ago. He'd remembered that minor detail? He looked over at the open flame under the pot of soup. He looked back at Neelix. If he'd been honest, he hadn't actually been ready to trying to shut Neelix down. That would involve him going to station security and while Quark was frustrated by his competition, he wasn't going to feed Neelix to them. Especially since Commander Kira still made it a habit to pour over security reports and wouldn't hesitate to exploit her authority over innocent business owners. He grinned at Neelix. 

"It's wonderful." 

Neelix clapped his hands. "Excellent. Well then, I suppose I'll have to have you over for dinner. I have Delta Quadrant delicacies to share with you my friend. And some good business ideas. Especially for things we can do for-" 

"Neelix." Quark interrupted, looking around. "Perhaps we should discuss this in private." He leaned in. "You never know who might be listening." 

Neelix tapped his brow. "Right you are Mr. Quark. We'll keep the element of surprise." 

"And potential attempts at copyright infringements." Quark agreed. "By the way, I wanted to warn you. That open flame is not regulation. The station security around here isn't as strict as they used to be, but they might still come in here and cause you some issues." 

Neelix's eyes widened and he quickly went to dose the flames. "I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Quark." 

"Oh it's nothing." Quark brushed off his thanks. "We promenade merchants need to stick together. I've always said so." He smiled as Neelix went about, finding heating plates to put underneath his pots. He picked his bowl back up and was about to take a sup when-

"That was awfully generous of you." 

Quark looked over at Garak, who seemed to have materialized next to him. 

"Not at all." Quark smirked. "He'll be getting a message with the station's fire control regulations tonight. Once he reads them, he'll realize just how much trouble I've just saved him from." He took another sip of his soup. 

"And he'll be in your debt." Garak said. "Well, I suppose this will be good for you." 

"Hmm?" Quark asked, his mouth full of soup. Neelix really was a good chef. 

"Having a target again." Garak replied. "A sparring partner. You've been getting...complacent since Odo left." 

"How dare you." Quark said. "Neelix is barely a blip, he's hardly a worthy adversary." 

"No?" Garak said. "I suppose then it won't interest you to know about the extensive conversation we had about the safety regulations businesses on the promenade have to adhere to." He paused. Quark's warm post soup feeling went cold. Across the room, Neelix tipped his hat to Quark, giving him a wink. 

"That little-" Quark paused. "Why was he at your shop?" 

Garak blinked before smiling. "He was stopping in to order some new clothes...and-" 

"And?" Quark prompted. Garak rolled his shoulder. Quark bared his teeth, the bastard was enjoying drawing this out. 

"Oh, nothing. He was so kindly giving me some pointers about Delta Quadrant fashion."

Quark's eyes widened. "Garak you didn't." 

"I'm nothing but a simple tailor." Garak pressed a hand to his chest. "Who am I to turn down the generous offer to share fashion that is lightyears ahead with my clientele." He smirked. "Still think he's an unworthy opponent?" 

Instead of answering, Quark lifted the bowl of soup to his lips. He'd let Neelix have this day, but tomorrow, he'd regroup. He met the Talaxian's gaze and toast him with the soup. 

Let the games begin. 


	2. Splitting Seams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quark questions Garak's loyalty while Neelix showcases his impressive knowledge of Klingon diplomacy.

Garak had barely turned the lights on in his shop when he had his first customer.

"I'm sure you would be interested to know what I found on the promenade this morning."

Garak turned to find Quark leaning against the door frame and holding up a button. 

"Am I to believe that my work is so shabby that a button would just fall off?" He retorted. Inwardly, he sighed. He'd known this was coming, honestly he was surprised it had taken Quark so long. He'd half expected to find the Ferengi in his quarters yesterday, after he'd made the transaction. 

"So you admit you did this." Quark tossed the button across the room. Garak caught it, looking it over. It was one of the gold pressed latinum gilded buttons he'd hand stitched onto Neelix's jacket. Turning it over, he examined the cut threads still clinging to the button. 

"It took a lot of effort to put these on his coat, please tell me you used a high quality tool to remove it." 

Quark scoff. "I may have needed evidence of your treachery but I would never disrespect your craftsmanship. Even though you have no respect for my need to feed my nephew." He sighed heavily. "Poor Nog. If I can't finish my days with my books in the black..." He trailed off. 

Garak crossed his arms. "Nog is a Starfleet officer, try again." 

"Well they could be starving him, considering what they call food." Quark shuddered. "He made me a hoo-mon delicacy on his last visit. Peanut butter and jelly." He shuddered at the memory. "It's a miracle that I ever unsealed my teeth. People eat cement on earth." He narrowed his eyes. "Why did you make him that suit?" 

"He paid for it." Garak shrugged. "You of all people can appreciate the beauty of a business transaction."

"You didn't have to make him such a good suit." Quark tugged at his lapels. 

"Would you pay me for a better one?" Garak pulled Quark's measurements up on his PADD. "I can begin sketches now, for the right price." 

Quark exhaled slowly. "You are using my feud to enrich yourself." He tutted, shaking his head. 

Garak grinned. "Proud of me?" 

"Disappointed it took you so long." Quark pressed his hand to his chest. "And that you felt the need to have me see Neelix in that suit rather than you just telling me." 

Garak put the PADD on his work bench. "My dear Quark, are you saying I should have directly bared my intentions to you?" 

Quark sighed. "Well, I suppose that would have been too much to ask." He turned to leave. "Oh." He snapped his fingers. "Before I forget. The Nagus sends his regrets. He seems to have lost your application to show your work in the Fereginar Female Empowerment fashion show." 

Garak bit back a smile. "Would the Nagus be motivated to find the portfolio if I were to make his brother a new, better suit?" 

Quark pressed a hand to his chest, bowing slightly. "I'm sure it be uncovered instantly." He grinned as he turned towards the promenade. "This is a good day." 

"Planning on ripping off more of Neelix's buttons?" 

"No." Quark ran a hand over one of his ears. "You didn't hear it from me, but it seems our station is going to be host to a major diplomatic visit." 

Garak chuckled. Doubtless Quark had uncovered this information in much the same way Garak had. The fact that Commander Kira hadn't found their cloning subroutines in the station's diplomatic calendar was concerning. It was fortunate he and Quark looked out for any real threats to the station's security and deleted all malware with malicious intent. "Our dear friend the Chancellor? I suppose your holosuites will be full of glorious battle?" 

Quark smirked. "I made sure to advertise our promenade's newest business on all the station maps." He waved at Neelix who was personally greeting a group coming into his lounge. "I just hope he has enough bloodwine." 

Martok swept into Commander Kira's office. As he entered, a ship came through the wormhole. He watched it close before turning to the Commander. "How are you, Commander?" 

"Well enough, Chancellor." Kira offered him a seat. "I wanted to apologize." 

Martok arched an eyebrow. "For?" 

"The maps you were sent as part of the station's last transmission." Kira drummed her fingers on the table, annoyed. "It seems that Quark found a way to add some supplemental material." 

"Quark?" Martok frowned. "But the advertisements all mentioned Neelix's Lounge." 

Kira rolled her eyes. "He's planning something." 

"Naturally." Martok nodded sagely. "He is a good strategist and approaches business with a ferocity that, were it directed at battle, would make him an exceptional Klingon." He leaned back, looking back at the part of space where he knew the worm hole was. "Neelix is our visitor from the Delta Quadrant, correct?" 

Kira nodded.

"I was briefed on the singularity that brought him here, as well as his connection to Starfleet with his interactions with the missing Voyager crew." He smiled. "I wonder if he makes good raakt?" 

Quark's sensitive ears had been punished all day. He rubbed his lobes, nodding as Martok waved his hand out talking about another glorious battle. It wasn't the raucous storytelling that was bothering Quark. It was the singing. 

For the last hour from Neelix's lounge. Nothing but Klingon opera. 

And was it his impression or was it getting louder? 

"WORF" Martok roared as the other Klingon walked into the bar, Neelix tailing him. "This is hardly conducted becoming of an ambassador." 

Quark stared at the two of them. Had that been Worf singing? 

"Au contraire Mr. Chancellor, sir." Neelix smiled. "Worf and I were just sharing our appreciation for your culture's wonderful art form." He turned to look at Quark. "We had a lieutenant on Voyager that was of Klingon descent. I once made her some traditional foods accompanied with some selections of opera I found in the ship's database." He shrugged "The music is truly rousing." He made a fist, shaking it with enthusiasm. " Makes me want to grab a batleth." Neelix paused. "Worf tells me you participated in the battle dedicated to his late wife." 

Quark blinked up at Worf. He hesitated before nodding. Sighing heavily, Worf said. "I informed Neelix that you have a certain...flourish, when it comes to recounting the tale." 

Quark's ears must have been damaged from all the loud opera, because it almost sounded like Worf had...complimented him. Quark glanced at Neelix before smiling. 

"I may be convinced to recount the tale...respectfully of course." 

"Naturally." Worf agreed. 

Quark clapped his hands. "May I have everyone's attention please." He waited until the whole bar turned to him. "Ambassador Worf and I would like to share one of our adventures." He bowed to the Chancellor. "If you do not mind." 

"No." Martok came off the dais, and sat in a chair. "This should be interesting."

"And afterwards." Neelix said. "Perhaps you should all purchase some of Quark's Rigellian fruit pie. It's an exquisite dessert and pairs well with the end of an excellent tale." 

Quark couldn't believe how his scheme had misfired. He'd excepted Neelix to be haggard and run screaming from being overwhelmed from his new Klingon clientele. Instead he had never seemed more at ease and was asking people to purchase from Quark's. Today was going to reap a lot of profit. Just not in the way Quark expected. 

Neelix leaned forward. "Thank you for the advertisement." 

"Don't mention it." Quark waved him off.

"And thank you." Neelix added. "For returning my button."

Quark blinked. "Oh." He pulled the button out of his pocket. "This is yours?" He very quickly tugged the cut threads out of the button and tucked them away. 

"Yes." Neelix said. "Such a strange default. Mr. Garak doesn't seem like the kind of person to be so careless." He stared meaningfully at Quark. 

"It is strange." Quark nodded, appreciating the Talaxian's gift with subtext. For all his skills of detection, Odo had never quite grasped the type of double dealing necessary to keep up with Quark. But Neelix, if Quark properly motivated him by keeping him on his toes, could be as downright devious as any Ferengi. While many considered him a mentor, it was only a select few who Quark thought worthy of his time. He clapped his hands. "Now. Worf. Where shall we begin our tale?" 


	3. An Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neelix arrives on Deep Space Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually Science, so my excuse for Neelix appearing in the Alpha Quadrant is just giant weird space physics thing and I apologize.

"Commander."

Kira arched an eyebrow as Quark strode into her office. "Of course, come right in." She grumbled, putting down the security report she'd been studying.

"We are way past formalities like waiting to come through a door." Quark tapped his fist on the desk. "I have filed 5 separate incident reports over the last 3 days. 5 of them. 2 with station security and 3 directly with your office. Would you care to guess how many of them have been addressed?"

"I can only speak for 3 of them." Kira sighed.

"None." Quark snapped. "Now I understand that the running of a station requires a large amount of attention and concentration, but the situation I am dealing with is becoming unacceptable."

"Quark." Kira pressed a hand to her forehead. "I am dealing with a major Bajoran diplomatic crisis-"

"Because of the upcoming religious upheaval." Quark rolled his eyes as Kira sat up and afforded him the first direct look since he'd walked into her office. "If you'd actually bothered to read my incident reports, you'd know that I've had multiple instances of doomsday prophets destroying bar property, scaring away customers and generally being loud and disagreeable to my wait staff."

Kira huffed. "I'm sorry that possibly the most significant theological event in recent Bajoran history is inconvenient to your profits." She waved her hand towards where the wormhole surrounded by an ion storm. 

"This isn't just about my profits." Quark replied. "Bajor has a significnt theological event every two years like clockwork. And every two years like clockwork, the station is overrun with aspiring vedeks and their soapboxes, telling people that gambling leads to disfavor with the prophets." He shook his head. "I'm here to complain mostly, but also to offer advice." 

Kira blinked before pushing back her chair from the desk. "Advice?" She repeated. 

Quark held open his hands. "I know, my sentimentality often overcome my better judgement, but what I have to say will benefit everyone." He drew himself up. "Ever since Sisko left, this station has become entirely too reliant on the whims of the Vedek Assembly." 

"Are you-" Kira glared at him. "I don't need you telling you how to tell me my job." She glanced over her shoulder towards the wormhole. "I know I'm not him. I don't you and everyone else reminding me." 

"Sisko-" Quark continued his point. "Was able to counter the Assembly's conservative demands because he was the Emissary and wasn't Bajoran." He crossed his arms. "He didn't have the same expectation of allegiance to doctrine that you have, Commander. If you don't mind me overstepping, you should be comfortable telling the Vedek Assembly no." 

"I am." 

"We both know that's not true." Quark lowered his voice. "You can disagree with them, but when it comes to restricting certain factions from having their say, you let your loyalty to your faith blind you. With all due respect, while this station is controlled by the Bajoran government, other people live here too. As this station commander your duty is to them, not to the will of the Assembly." 

Kira pressed her lips together. "I know." She sighed. "It's just these readings and the continued absence of the Emissary have people on edge." She tapped the PADD. "That ion storm has people believing Bajor has lost favor with the prophets and I can't have ships going to and from the Gamma Quadrant because of it..." She shook her head. "But I will take what you've said under advisement." 

"Good." Quark said. "Now will you please send someone to my bar to stop the proselytizing?" 

Kira exhaled. "I'll think about it." 

Quark sighed. "Can I expect them some time before the next Bajoran shuttle?" 

Kira nodded curtly. "Any other ad-" 

A shockwave hit the station. Both Quark and Kira lurched as the floor rocked under their feet. Kira scrambled to her feet, going out to Opps. Quark started to follow her when something over his shoulder caught his attention. He stopped in the doorway, listening to what was happening in Opps while staring out the window.

"What hit us?" Kira asked, walking towards the central console. 

"Unclear, Commander." The new science officer, Nzina O'jory, Quark remembered her from Morn's last birthday party, replied. "Though I'm reading a large energy build up next to the wormhole." 

"Could it be from the wormhole itself?" Kira asked. 

"No." O'jory replied. "This reads like a quantum displacement." 

As Quark watched the ion storm began swirling next to where the wormhole usually opened. What ever it was, it was exerting enough significant enough mass that the wormhole opened as though expecting a ship. 

"Commander." Quark looked back into Opps. No one seemed to be actually looking at the wormhole. Kira waved an annoyed hand, staring back at the screen in O'Jory's station. Quark raised his voice. "Commander!" 

"Quark!" Kira said, looking up. "I'll-" She trailed off as she stared through her office towards the windows. The wormhole and the purple...whatever it was were churning in opposing circles, causing what looked like lightning to spark between them. Another shockwave hit the station. Quark gripped the doorframe. 

"I'm reading..." O'jory blinked, looking up.

"Reading what?" Kira asked. 

"Commander." The science officer cleared her throat. "There's a ship in there." She frantically tapped across the screen. "If it comes through, it'll be torn to pieces." 

Kira looked over at the engineering chief. "Any life signs?" 

"It's hard to read over the displacement." Chief T'var replied. "In between every wave, I am getting a flicker. It should be enough to lock on to." 

"Then do it." Quark said. Kira arched an eyebrow. "What? You were planning on saying that, weren't you?" 

Kira nodded, looking back to T'var. "Lock on the life sign and beam them directly here. Make sure there's a containment field." 

"Aye, Commander." T'var tapped his consol. "Energizing." 

Quark watched as a small dot came into view. Tightening his hold on the doorframe, he watched as the shuttle broke apart. 

"We got them." T'var announced. Quark whirled around just in time to watch the transporter materialize a new person into Opps. The person, who was unlike any species that had walked through Deep Space Nine, looked around, taking in their surroundings before locking eyes on T'Var. 

"Starfleet!" They said, practically bouncing with excitement. "And a Vulcan. Oh, how wonderful, I'm saved." 

T'Var blinked, straightening his spine. "You have met another Vulcan?" 

"Yes yes." The visitor said, walking forward and bumping into the forcefield. "Oh. A forcefield." He nodded sagely. "Of course. You can't be sure that I'm not a threat to your ship. I quite understand. Please have your security officer question me." 

Quark moved closer, examining this strange new person. He especially took note of his exceptionally well tailored clothes. Quark wouldn't mind learning where he purchased them. Some one with such taste must come with many stories and might be willing to spill them at Quark's bar. 

"My name is Neelix." Neelix smiled. "I am from what the Federation calls the Delta Quadrant." 

"That's impossible." O'Jory blurted out. 

"Not so." Neelix smiled. "While there, I was a guest on a federation ship. The Voyager." 

"The USS Voyager went missing a few years ago." O'Jory said. "How is that possible?" 

Kira, Quark noted, didn't look surprised. "Anything you'd like to share, Commander?" He asked, innocently. Kira straightened her shoulders. 

"Starfleet headquarters has been in contact with Voyager through a subspace link." She said. "They're in the Delta Quadrant." She looked over at T'Var. "Chief, bring him to Sick bay to have them check him out. Then bring them back to my office." 

Quark watched as Neelix bowed slightly as T'Var came up to the platform. "Are you a follower of the teachings of Surak?" He smiled as T'Var arched an eyebrow. "I ask because a dear compatriot of mine on Voyager, a Mr. Tuvok was as well." He grinned as T'Var nodded. "Brilliant. I cannot wait to meet all the species that make up the Federation that my friends on Voyager told me so much about."

"If you'll come this way." T'Var motioned to the tubrolift. Quark stepped out of the door and moved towards it as well. Neelix seemed a fascinating character. 

"This doesn't look like the design of Voyager." Neelix remarked as he and T'Var entered the turbolift.

"It's a former Cardassian station." Quark piped up. He stepped into the lift. "My name is Quark. I am the propriety of Quark's on the promenade. Can I invite you for a meal and a tour. I can tell you all you need to know about this station." 

"Quark." Kira called out. 

"I'm welcoming our guest." Quark said. "He's clearly not a harbinger of prophetic doom. He's a traveler and that is my area of expertise." He waved at her as the doors to the turbolift closed. 

"How very welcoming." Neelix smiled. "I will take you up on this offer, Mr. Quark. By the way, I admire your coat." 

"Thank you." Quark smoothed his hands over his lapels. "It's a custom design from the local tailor. Yours is quite nice as well." 

"A custom design from a decided not local tailor." Neelix replied. "And I must insist on not intruding on your generosity. There must be something I can do to repay you from taking time out of your busy schedule to show me around." 

"Oh, I won't hear of it." Quark waved him off. Next to him T'Var raised his eyes to the ceiling, his jaw ticking slightly. "I'm sure you have many stories of all your marvelous adventures." 

"I would be more than willing to tell them." 

The lift stopped. T'Var stepped out first. "Sick bay is this way." He motioned. Neelix followed out and looked over at Quark. 

"Your establishment is named Quark's?"

"It's on both levels of the promenade, you can't miss it." 

Neelix smiled. "Well. I will stop by after I've been deemed not a threat to security. Mr. Quark. I do believe we will be excellent friends." 

Quark watched as T'Var lead Neelix to sick bay. "I think so too." He said, turning and walking back to Quark's. "I think so too." 


	4. An Emperor Walks into a Bar (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of Terra Firma, Phillipa Georgiou, Former Emperor of the Terran Empire was sent back to a moment where the Mirror and Prime universes were still close together. She arrived, as many travelers do, at a certain station next to a wormhole.

Phillipa wondered at the strange place the Guardian of Forever had sent her. The station was clearly not Federation built, though it's officers walked all over it. Their uniforms were different than in Michael's time. She walked along a busy merchant area, observing her surroundings. Space stations were an excellent place to do some recon. Everyone was a stranger and the sheer volume of travelers meant she could blend in and learn everything she needed to know.

Like where and when she was. As much as she appreciated the opportunity to not have her atoms phasing apart due to dimensional and temporal displacement, would it have been too much for the guardian to provide her with the date she was landing in? She walked over to one of the information panels. Tapping it, she said. "Computer, name of this station." 

"This is Federation starbase Deep Space Nine." 

Georgiou blinked. Not as close to Michael's time as she would have anticipated. They hadn't reached Deep Space Six. "Identify coordinates and closest planetary systems." She asked. She twitched as the computer read out the information. She had not heard of Bajor and Cardassia Prime. In her universe, the Empire hadn't conquered them yet and during Michael's time, the Federation had not arrived this far. "Are they members of the Federation." 

"Cardassia Prime and Bajor are not members of the Federation." 

"And they allow a Federation Starbase in their space?" Georgiou asked. She couldn't believe these worlds would be that naïve. The computer seemed all too willing to give her answers and since no one was stopping her from her inquiry, (what peaceful a era she must have fallen into) she saw no reason to not exploit it for all the information it would give. She tilted her head and listened as she was given all the information on the Dominion War and this station's unique part in it. It was a fascinating tale. If it was to be believed. After all, the Federation did have a nauseating way of spinning their propaganda to further their aims. She didn't know how bad the Dominion truly was, but this report would have the listener believe the Federation came out with its hands clean. Phillipa highly doubted Section 31 had been content to allow an incursion force to attack Federation space unchallenged. 

"Find anything of value?" 

Phillipa turned, taking in the being in front of her. Having looked through reports on the leaders of the Dominion Cardassian alliance, she recognized that he was a Cardassian. Strange that he was allowed free reign of the station, but the Federation seemed to believe redemption was possible for all. She had been the beneficiary of their blind faith in others. The Cardassian held a hand up. 

"Forgive me if I intruded on your musings. It's not often we have visitors who are so interested in learning about recent history on the middle of the promenade." He bowed. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Elim Garak, the proprietor of a humble clothing establishment two doors over and right now, your only hope at salvation." 

"Excuse me?" Phillipa balked at his presumption. 

"Surely you've noted the increase in security personnel." He motioned towards a group of tan clad officers, Bajoran, conferring with yellow suited Starfleet officers. Yellow meant engineering and operations now. They appeared to be having a simple conversation, but Phillipa could spot a surveillance detail anywhere. It wasn't as though they were being subtle. If she hadn't been so interested in the panel's information, she would have noticed them before. She smiled over at Elim Garak. 

"Interesting that a tailor would note an increase in security." She noted. Garak bowed and motioned towards his shop. Phillipa decided to follow him. Smiling, she went into the door of his shop. 

"It always pays to know where the wind is blowing." Garak continued. "Fashion tends to change alongside society." 

Phillipa hummed, smiling as she ran her fingers over the sleeve of a jacket. She had to admit the stitching was exquisite. Whatever else he was (and it was clear that he was something else) Elim Garak was exceptional at his craft. He could have rivaled any Imperial Terran tailor. He watched as she meandered over to a display of fabric, his expression unreadable. "Indeed it does." She turned. "I must admit, I do not have much experience with Cardassian fashion. What would you suggest." 

"Well." Garak clasped his hands behind his back, moving closer. "I do enjoy introducing customers to styles from my home world. You seem to favor black. I have quite a few selections. Many of them...utilitarian in style. My people do like to blend military accents into our civilian clothing." 

So he knew she had a military background. It was a pretty standard deduction, not too impressive. Smiling up at him, she ran her fingers over the sleeve of one of the dresses. "Ask." 

"Hmm?" Garak tilted his head. 

"You want to know who I am and why I'm on the station." 

Garak blinked. "I mean. Yes, but I do enjoy a bit more finesse in my interrogation techniques."

Phillipa chuckled. "I appreciate a man who likes foreplay, but I need information and you seem to be able to give it to me." 

Garak almost looked disappointed. "Able, sure. Willing..." He wandered over to his desk. Phillipa braced herself. The Guardian hadn't sent her back with any weapons, though in a pinch she could smash one of the display cases and use glass. Garak raised his hands. "I'm not summoning station security. There's a bottle of Kanar in my desk. I sense that your story might pair well with it."

Phillip snorted. "If your tactic for interrogation is to get people drunk in order to spill their guts it's no wonder your people no longer control this station." 

Garak pulled the bottle and two glasses out of his desk. "Computer turn shop sign to closed." He poured a glass and pushed it across the table. "Now." He said. "Let's see if I decide to alert station security or not."

Quark frowned at the latest security manifest. A passenger had been added to list of a Vulcan freighter. Normally he wouldn't interest himself in what could have been a simple clerical error, but he happened to have a business contact on that transport and for someone to mess with their crew contingent... 

He drummed his fingers against the bar, looking at his PADD. If he investigated, he risked tipping off Security that he had a particular interest in this ship. Not that it was anything they could hold against him. The contact was just bringing him information that could lead to a future business opportunity. Which is why he couldn't afford to alert security, lest they get a headstart on suspecting him. No, whoever this passenger was he'd have to do his investigation in person. 

Putting his PADD down, he smiled as he watched Garak walk towards the Replimat. It made sense, the tailor never missed lunch with Bashir. One could set the station chronometer by their lunches. 

That was strange.

Garak wasn't sitting down. He'd walked over to the replicators, ordered, and then taken the order, two plates, back towards his shop. Perhaps he and Bashir were taking their lunch in the store? No, here was Bashir, walking towards Quark's. 

"Hello, Quark." He said, sitting down. "Garak has to work on a special order, so It's just me today." He smiled. Quark blinked. How was it that after all these years, the war, and all the revelations about Garak's past, Bashir still didn't think to question it when Garak said he was 'working on a special order'. Hoomans so trusting. It was their worst quality and their most exploitable. As Garak clearly knew well. Smiling and inputting Bashir's order, Quark handed off the run of the bar to one of his head servers. He ducked into his storeroom, glancing around before locking it. Opening one of the secret hatches, he slipped into the tunnels. Crawling through the Jeffries tubes, he made his way towards Garak's shop. He stopped about three feet from where the shop began. At this distance, he could hear everything said in the shop without tripping any of Garak's security measures. Tilting his head, he smirked as the conversation between Garak and a strange woman unfolded. Most of it, he was sure, was lies. But some of it might be true and that. That would certainly be interesting. 

Neelix watched as Quark reemerged from wherever he'd been hiding for the last half hour. He'd changed his suit and had a glint in his eye that told Neelix he had something planned. Something, Neelix was sure, he wanted to know about. Excusing himself from his lounge, he ambled across the promenade. Quark looked up from where he was pouring Morn another drink, nodding as he listened to whatever long story his best costumer was sharing now. 

"Neelix!" Quark excused himself. "Come to tell me you've decided to combine businesses with me?" 

Neelix grinned. Really, his new friend had such a good sense of humor. "Not today." He leaned against the bar. "What did you learn?" 

"Beg pardon?" Quark asked, accepting a stack of latinum strips from a departing customer. 

"From Garak and his lady friend." Neelix kept his smile in place as Quark jostled the stack, nearly dropping them off the bar. He waited until Quark met his eyes before explaining. "He was supposed to come by and pick up some sketches I had for him. When he didn't, I went looking for him." 

"I didn't hear you go into the sh-" Quark trailed off. Neelix smiled. 

"I didn't go in, the shop was closed. I just casually strolled by.I figured you would have a means of extracting more information." He leaned closer. "So. Who is she?" 

Quark's smile grew. "My dear Neelix. you are never going to believe this." He motioned to a stool. "Pull up a seat. I may even buy you a round." 


End file.
